


Warm

by lostresidentevilpotter



Series: What If? [3]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Of course a hurricane rolls in when Alicia’s trapped at the SWAT van – by herself – with that journalist.Or, an AU where Alicia and Althea get stuck in the SWAT van together during the hurricane.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I felt bad after writing Everything Ends and this idea popped into my head, so this one is definitely a lot lighter. It’s kind of a pointless sort of thing, mostly written to show Alicia and Al trapped together and butting heads the entire time.
> 
> I've added it to the What If? series because really it's "what if Alicia and Al were trapped in the van together during the hurricane instead of Al and June?"

Of _course_ a fucking hurricane rolls in when Alicia’s trapped at the SWAT van – by _herself_ – with that journalist. Al-something. Half the time, John Dorie and Morgan just call her Al, and Alicia never bothered to remember the full version of Al’s name anyway. Alicia tries to radio Strand and Luciana again, but like every other time, the only response she receives is static. She shuts the walkie off and climbs from the back of the van into the passenger’s seat. She peers out the windshield, then the side window, hoping to spot Al somewhere out there. The last thing she needs is to ride out an oncoming hurricane _alone_. At least Al doesn’t seem like a total idiot.

 

Alicia nearly jumps out of her skin when the doors at the back of the van swing open. She whips around, fumbling for some sort of weapon, but it’s just Al. It’s probably still a good idea to stay armed at all times. After all, Alicia was recently trying to kill Al. And June/Naomi/Laura – whatever the hell her name really is.

 

“It’s definitely a hurricane,” Al informs. She shuts and locks the doors and scrambles to get the van prepared.

 

“How do you know?” Alicia questions. Just to fuck with her a bit. “Does this area get hit with hurricanes a lot?”

 

“I don’t know if it gets hit a lot, but it does get hit once in a while,” Al replies. “Like right now. The dead are literally flying.” She combs her fingers through her hair and mutters, “The wind’s really fucking nasty.”

 

“You from around here?” Alicia asks.

 

Al pauses to look at Alicia for a moment. “I ask the questions,” she finally says.

 

Alicia’s eyes roll. Right. This bitch is a closed book.

 

“How long do hurricanes last?” Alicia questions.

 

“Depends on if you count their time spent in the ocean.”

 

“When it hits land.”

 

Al shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not a hurricane expert. I think it’s like a couple hours but the rain and wind and shit can last a while. What? You’ve never experienced a hurricane before?”

 

“I’m from Los Angeles,” Alicia shoots. “We didn’t get hurricanes.”

 

Al seems satisfied with her preparation for the storm and plops down on one of the seats in the back, facing the passenger’s seat so she can maintain eye contact with Alicia. “So what are you doing out here in Texas if you’re from Los Angeles?”

 

“Nice try.”

 

“I’m serious.”

 

“You’re prying.”

 

“We’re gonna be stuck together until this storm passes,” Al points out. “Might as well get comfortable, right? Like we’re gonna be peeing in that bucket in that corner until it’s safe to go outside.”

 

Alicia’s lips part, and after a few moments spent in stunned silence, Alicia says, “I can’t do this.”

 

“You don’t really have a choice,” Al says. She unzips her jacket and tosses it onto the seats across from her. “Unless you want to be like –” As if on cue, the wind blows one of the dead against the windshield. “That,” Al finishes. The wind carries the dead off, as if it had never been there to begin with, and the rain starts coming down even harder than before.

 

“I’ll take my chances.”

 

“Look,” Al says, standing in the walkway and blocking Alicia’s exit via the back doors. “I’m not really thrilled about this, either, Clark, but let’s just make the best of it, yeah?”

 

Clark? Alicia can’t remember Al’s full first name, but Al remembers Alicia’s _last_ name? What the fuck? That’s the thing that gives Alicia pause: Al remembers her last name. Alicia exhales heavily then grabs Al’s jacket and thrusts it into her chest.

 

“Keep your shit on your side,” Alicia says.

 

“Fine,” Al agrees. “Don’t go through my shit.”

 

“No promises.”

 

Alicia lounges across the seats. It’s not nearly time to go to sleep yet, but there isn’t really anything else to do. She’s going to spend the next day at least trapped in a metal cage with a woman she barely knows and can barely tolerate. And if she busts that camera out, Alicia swears –

 

Al’s already asleep. That fucking bitch. How dare she? Alicia tries for the next few hours to get comfortable enough to sleep, but the rain is relentless. As if the rain wasn’t bad enough, the dead keep slapping against the van from all angles. Al doesn’t stir once. Alicia could probably kill her in her sleep without her waking up.

 

By the time the sun actually sets, Alicia gives up on the idea of sleep and rummages through shit instead. If the dead banging against the van won’t wake up Al, neither will Alicia’s snooping. She finds a stash of books, stored neatly, but nothing that sounds remotely interesting. Mostly she finds clothes. Pairs of pants, shirts with buttons, tank tops, socks, underwear, shoes. The clothes are folded, stored as neatly as the books in an oddly organized manner. For someone that spends all her time collecting people’s stories, she sure is boring.

 

Or maybe Alicia just hasn’t found the right spot yet. She glances over at Al to make sure she’s still asleep and continues searching. If she can dig up something even sort of interesting, she’ll stop. At least, that’s what Alicia tells herself, because now it’s a challenge. Now she’s entertained.

 

Alicia unearths not one but four different first aid kits. Alicia opens each one just in case there’s something hidden inside, but they’re all full of medical supplies. Figures. She finds Al’s ammo cache. She’s going through a bag packed mostly with the necessary supplies for a quick escape when a rustling sound catches her attention. Just as she looks over her shoulder, Al sits up, the rustling sound being her jacket.

 

“I thought I told you not to go through my shit,” Al grumbles.

 

“I don’t recall,” Alicia says smoothly.

 

“Don’t recall my ass,” Al retorts.

 

“I don’t know why you bothered,” Alicia says, zipping the bag shut and shoving it back into its hiding spot. “There’s nothing interesting in here besides your tapes, and that shit’s locked up.”

 

“Don’t be so sure.”

 

Alicia’s eyebrows raise. “So you _are_ hiding something.”

 

“You’ll never find out.” Al pauses. “Why aren’t you sleeping? It’s dark.”

 

“No offense, but this van isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to sleep,” Alicia says. “And I totally considered killing you in your sleep for a hot second, so there’s no way I’m going to be able to fall asleep knowing you could do the same.”

 

“Thanks,” Al sneers. “Appreciate it.”

 

“Can we watch your tapes or something?” Alicia asks. “You don’t have any good books on hand.”

 

“I forgot to raid the library before the storm hit,” Al says wryly. “You aren’t touching my tapes.”

 

Alicia hoists herself back up onto her seats and stares at Al. “What about my mom’s tape?” she asks quietly. “Can I at least watch that one?”

 

Al blinks. Alicia waits for the inevitable _no_ or _not right now_ or _maybe later_ answer, but Al swings her legs off the seats and heads for her safe. She pulls the key out of her shirt, hanging off a plain silver chain, and unlocks the padlock. She carefully removes the camera and shuffles through the tapes for a minute before she finds the right one. She sets the camera and tape in Alicia’s hands then stretches back out on her side. She uses her jacket as a blanket and turns her back to Alicia.

 

Alicia watches the tape. When it’s over, she starts it back from the beginning and watches it again. On the fourth watch, she realizes Al’s been fake sleeping the entire time. This time, when the tape ends, Alicia shuts the camera off and places both the camera and tape back in the safe. Alicia hooks the padlock through the little door, but she doesn’t lock it. Al starts to roll over, and Alicia quickly swipes at her eyes with the sleeves of her flannel shirt and nearly throws herself back onto her makeshift bed. She faces the side of the van and forces herself to close her eyes, listening to the rain and the occasional dead projectile.

 

“I liked her,” Al says. Alicia stiffens, but it doesn’t really matter. There’s no way Al thought she was sleeping. “Your mom,” Al clarifies. “She would’ve done anything for you and, uh –”

 

“Nick,” Alicia says.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I know,” Alicia says quietly. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

 

“We can.”

 

“No, we can’t,” Alicia says firmly. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“Alicia, I slept for six hours. I’m awake now. I’m especially awake because I know if I _do_ go back to sleep, you’re gonna keep going through my shit.”

 

“I won’t,” Alicia mutters. She does her best to curl into a ball in the limited space she has. She shivers. It’s like the temperature has dropped twenty degrees or something in the last ten minutes. She rolls onto her back and says, “Is it just me or is it suddenly really fucking cold?”

 

“It’s getting pretty cold,” Al agrees. “Should’ve brought a jacket.”

 

“That thin piece of fabric isn’t going to help you if it gets any colder,” Alicia shoots. “And what the fuck? I thought we were in Texas.”

 

“Texas can get cold sometimes.”

 

“During a hurricane?”

 

“Don’t ask me,” Al says. “Take that up with Mother Nature.”

 

“Mother Nature set the dead on us,” Alicia reminds. “I’m not asking her jack shit.”

 

“So you have a sense of humor,” Al notes. “I guess I didn’t notice before.”

 

“I’ll try to crack more jokes the next time I try to kill you,” Alicia says.

 

“There’s going to be a next time?”

 

“If you don’t shut up.”

 

Al chuckles, and Alicia listens to her shift around. Al, it seems, has taken Alicia’s half-hearted threat seriously. Alicia’s afraid Al’s going to fall back to sleep, and then she’s going to be alone until the sun rises.

 

“Okay, fine,” Alicia grumbles. “Don’t shut up.”

 

“Ah, now you want to talk,” Al says.

 

“I’m not answering any of your bullshit questions.”

 

“Okay,” Al says simply. “Then what are we going to talk about?”

 

“We can talk about how fucking cold it’s getting in here.”

 

“It’s really not that cold.”

 

Alicia shivers. “I beg to differ.”

 

“You’re just being a baby.”

 

“You have a jacket.”

 

“This thin piece of fabric?” Al taunts. “I thought that wasn’t going to help me.”

 

“You’re on the warmer side of the van.”

 

“Now you’re just making shit up.”

 

“Trade with me and let’s find out,” Alicia says.

 

“Just sleep up front. It’s probably warmer.”

 

“That’s less comfortable.”

 

“I’m not really up for arguing over how cold it is all night long,” Al says. “I’m sure you found my extra clothes. Layer up and stop complaining.”

 

“I’m not wearing your clothes!”

 

Al sighs. “Out of all the people I could’ve gotten stuck with, I got you.”

 

“I’m thinking the same thing.”

 

The next ten minutes pass in silence. Alicia tries curling into a ball again. She tries the front seat, but it’s actually colder up there, and the dead have a tendency to hit the windows. She returns to the back and tries to fall asleep with her head on the opposite end of the seats as before, as if that’s going to make any difference.

 

“Just take my damn jacket,” Al finally offers. She yanks it off of herself and throws it across the aisle. It hits the wall and falls onto Alicia, but she immediately whips it back over at Al.

 

“I’m not taking your jacket,” Alicia says.

 

“Well, your restlessness is giving me anxiety,” Al replies. “So do something, please.”

 

“Are you not cold?” Alicia demands, pushing herself up into a sitting position. “I’m over here freezing my ass off.”

 

“I’m fucking cold, too,” Al snaps. “I’m just not being a baby about it.”

 

“How cold is it in here?” Alicia asks.

 

“How should I know? I’m not a thermometer.”

 

“But do you have one?”

 

“Somewhere,” Al dismisses. “Look, Alicia, it’s not actually that cold. It’s Texas. It’s probably no lower than fifty degrees.”

 

“That’s fucking freezing!”

 

“Have you never left the southern part of the US before?” Al questions.

 

Alicia hesitates. “That counts as a bullshit question, and I’m not going to answer it.”

 

“Take my jacket.”

 

Al throws the jacket at Alicia again. Alicia swats the jacket out of midair, and it lands on the floor between them. Through the darkness, Alicia and Al glare at each other. Finally, Al shrugs.

 

“Suit yourself,” she says. She rolls over, not bothering to pick up the jacket. Alicia continues to shiver. Al’s probably right. It’s probably not really that cold. The jacket would probably be enough to keep Alicia warm. But Alicia’s too stubborn to give in now. So she grits her teeth and tries to wait the rest of the night out.

 

After over an hour of silence, Alicia assumes Al’s asleep again. Alicia gets back up, rubbing her hands together in a vain attempt to warm them. She retrieves Al’s camera and her mother’s tape. She pauses, staring down at the entire collection. Some of the tapes are labeled with names, others with some random identifying mark. Like Amina. Alicia carries the camera up into the front seat and curls up. She watches the tape over and over, watches her mother tell the story of their baby bird, watches her mother speak until she can’t keep her eyes open even though it’s fucking cold. She sets the camera carefully aside moments before she finally falls asleep.

 

It’s an uneasy slumber. Being up front – despite being marginally colder than the back – gives Alicia some peace of mind. If Al’s going to try to kill her in her sleep, Alicia should have a few seconds to brace herself for a fight.

 

She dreams about her mother. Nick. Their life before all this. She’s afraid to open her eyes when she starts to come to, afraid it’s all a dream. The first thing she sees is the rain splattering against the windshield of the SWAT van, reminding her that _of course_ it was just a dream. Her family is dead. Alicia rubs at her eyes, feeling worse than she did before she got any sort of sleep. Her head aches, and there’s this unfamiliar scent –

 

That stupid jacket’s draped over Alicia. Since Alicia highly doubts she sleepwalked her way to the back of the van, retrieved it, and wrapped herself in it, she knows Al must’ve thrown it over her at some point. Speaking of Al, where is she? The rain doesn’t seem to have let up at all, so it seems unlikely Al left. Alicia sits upright, stretching her legs and arms in the limited space she has, and notices the camera’s missing. Alicia tosses the jacket into the driver’s seat and twists around, groaning as her joints pop.

 

“What are you doing?” Alicia grunts. She doesn’t throw off Al’s rhythm, and Al continues her pushups at a steady pace in the aisle.

 

“Well, good morning to you, too,” Al says. “It’s called staying in shape.”

 

“Is the storm over?”

 

“Does it look over?”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. She’s got a full day of this to look forward to. Most likely more than a day, because once the storm passes, they still have to find the others. Alicia is indefinitely stuck with Al and _just_ Al.

 

“Do you always do pushups on the floor of your van?” Alicia questions.

 

“Only when I don’t have any other options.”

 

“Do you always work out this early in the morning?”

 

Al stops, pushing herself up to her feet, and she wipes the sweat on her forehead away with the back of her hand. Her hands drop to her hips. Her eyebrows raise, and Alicia stares back at her blankly.

 

“I’m trying not to let you ruin my usual routine,” Al says. “Hand me that water bottle, will you?”

 

Alicia passes her the bottle then asks, “Where’s the camera?”

 

“Where it belongs.”

 

“Can we start looking for the others yet?”

 

“The winds still aren’t safe to drive in.”

 

Alicia grimaces. “Are the dead still flying?”

 

“They were as of a half hour ago.”

 

“How long have you been up?” Alicia blurts.

 

Al shrugs and uses the bottom of her tank top to wipe the rest of the sweat from her face. Alicia averts her eyes from the sudden exposure of pale skin; she tries not to notice the jagged scar that slashes diagonally across Al’s stomach. Alicia sets her gaze out the side window as Al answers her question.

 

“I don’t know. Two hours?”

 

Alicia figures she’s given Al enough time to put her shirt back down and looks back only to find Al yanking it over her head shamelessly. She drops the tank top onto the seats and digs for a different shirt.

 

“What have you been doing?” Alicia blurts. “Don’t tell me you work out for two hours straight.”

 

Al laughs and pulls a clean tank top over her head. “I don’t work out for two hours straight.”

 

“So what’d you do?” Alicia presses. “Film me sleeping?”

 

An indignant look crosses Al’s face. “I’m not a creep, Alicia.”

 

“Just checking. I mean, I woke up with your jacket somehow, so…”

 

Al grins and shakes her head. “That’s because I couldn’t stand to watch your violent shivering after the first hour.”

 

“Oh,” Alicia mumbles.

 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t just take it last night,” Al says. She pulls the chain with the safe’s key out of her shirt, and Alicia realizes there’s more than one key dangling off the end. Al selects a key and unlocks a compartment Alicia didn’t even know existed. Al pulls out a box of rations and tosses a protein bar Alicia’s way. “It was a gesture of good faith,” Al adds.

 

“If I would’ve taken it, you would’ve been cold,” Alicia says.

 

“I slept just fine without it.” Al lowers herself to the floor of the van and takes a bite out of her own protein bar. Then she motions toward the one Alicia hasn’t touched. Al swallows and says, “You should eat that.”

 

“You’re not my mother.”

 

Al’s eyebrows quirk up. She takes another bite of the protein bar and doesn’t justify Alicia’s comment with a response. Alicia’s stomach betrays her, and she tears the protein bar open. They finish eating in silence, but that leaves them with the rest of the day to kill while the rain pounds against the van.

 

“How are you sitting in a tank top?” Alicia asks. “It’s still cold.”

 

“I’ve handled worse.”

 

“Clearly,” Alicia mutters. She waves her hand over her own abdomen and asks, “What was that all about?”

 

Al smirks. “So you looked?”

 

“Not on purpose! Most people don’t just start taking their clothes off!”

 

“Calm down,” Al laughs. “It’s a joke. But if you get to ask questions, so do I.”

 

“Then forget it.”

 

“It’s an old scar,” Al explains. “From a different life.”

 

Alicia stays quiet. Al busies herself by sharpening her blades. Alicia sits in the front, watches the rain, and shivers. Fuck it. Alicia leans over and snatches up the jacket. She shoves her arms into it and zips it to her neck. She’s going to smell like Al until she has the chance to shower – which could be days or weeks – but it’s better than shivering for the next twelve hours. Al, thankfully, doesn’t say anything about it.

 

But the jacket only works for so long. It must be getting colder, because Alicia’s back to shivering within two hours even though she’s wearing the stupid jacket. And this time, Alicia knows it’s cold, because Al puts a shirt on over the tank top and buttons it to her neck. She does it nonchalantly, like it isn’t a result of the dropping temperature.

 

“So you’re cold now, huh?” Alicia teases. Her teeth chattering takes away from the effect Alicia wanted her words to have.

 

“Not as cold as you,” Al replies. “You’re really trying to burrow into my jacket.”

 

Alicia glares at the reminder that the jacket is, in fact, not her own. She almost offers to give it back, but she can barely stand the cold while wearing it. She can’t imagine taking it off at this point. So she holds her tongue. She tries to get Al to fire up the van for a bit, but Al still refuses to waste fuel to heat them up. She has a point, but Alicia’s fingers and toes are unbearably numb from the cold. She just wants a few minutes of heat.

 

“My hands are frozen,” Alicia says. “Can we _please_ just run the engine for a few minutes?”

 

“No,” Al says.

 

“I can see my breath.”

 

“No you can’t,” Al snorts. “You’re being dramatic.”

 

“I can’t take it,” Alicia says. She hauls herself out of the front seat, heading straight for Al in the back. Al bolts upright on her makeshift bed as Alicia seizes her by the front of the shirt. “Where are the damn keys?” Alicia demands.

 

“Whoa, hold up,” Al says, grabbing onto Alicia’s wrists. “Stop manhandling me, Clark.”

 

“Give me the keys!”

 

Al blinks. “Let go of my shirt.”

 

Alicia hesitates at the way Al’s tone changes. No longer lighthearted, but dead-ass serious. Alicia’s grip loosens enough for Al to break her hold on her shirt. Alicia braces for a fight, but Al merely lets go of Alicia’s hands and smooths the front of her shirt out.

 

“Your hands are freezing,” Al comments. She holds her hands out, palms up, and says, “Give ‘em here.”

 

“What?” Alicia exclaims. “Have you lost it?”

 

“How cold are you?” Al questions. Alicia doesn’t bother to answer. She slaps her hands into Al’s and allows her to try to rub some of the warmth back into them.

 

“Your hands are cold, too,” Alicia grumbles.

 

“I’m not wasting fuel because we’re cold,” Al says. “We’re going to need that diesel to find the others when the storm passes. The cold won’t kill us.”

 

“Speak for yourself.” Alicia pulls her hands free from Al’s and mutters, “This isn’t working.”

 

“Do something to take your mind off the cold,” Al suggests.

 

“Like what?” Alicia snaps.

 

“We could play a game,” Al says. “There’s a deck of cards in here somewhere.”

 

“My hands are too frozen to hold cards.”

 

“So what’re you gonna do? Sit around and think about how cold you are?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Alicia sits across from Al, hugging herself in a futile attempt to feel warmer. Al picks up a book and flips to a page somewhere in the middle. She leans back against the side of the van, stretching her legs out ahead of her, and she reads. The book’s about documentary filmmaking, and Alicia can’t fathom how that could be an engrossing read. Al’s eyes don’t leave the pages, and Alicia’s eyes don’t leave Al.

 

Al reaches a good stopping point before she snaps the book shut and turns her head to stare back at Alicia.

 

“It’s kind of hard to focus with your relentless staring,” Al says.

 

“You don’t really like me, do you?” Alicia asks abruptly.

 

Al laughs. She leans over to stash the book away for later before replying, “I could say the same to you.”

 

“Well, good, now that that’s out there, we can move on,” Alicia says.

 

“Move on to what?”

 

“I don’t know. Accepting our shitty-ass situation for what it is.”

 

“I’ve accepted our shitty-ass situation,” Al says. “In fact, I’m doing great. I think _you’re_ the one having a hard time accepting shit as it is.”

 

Alicia’s eyes narrow. “And why do you say that?”

 

Al hesitates. “No reason,” she says coolly. “But this rain hasn’t let up once, and it’s looking like we’re going to be spending a second night in this van. And it’s only going to get colder.”

 

“So?”

 

“And I’m not wasting fuel to heat the van.”

 

“ _So_?” Alicia repeats.

 

“So good luck staying warm,” Al says. She flashes a quick grin then picks her book back up.

 

“I know you’re just as cold as I am,” Alicia retorts.

 

“Yeah, but I’m used to much worse than this, that’s for sure. While you’ve been shivering it up, I’ve been doing just fine.”

 

“Are you just one of those space heater people or something?”

 

Al tears her eyes away from the book again and busts out laughing again. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

 

“Space heater people,” Alicia says. “No matter what, you’re always just unnaturally warm. Jake was one.”

 

Alicia’s eyes widen as his name slips from her lips. She didn’t mean to say that; that particular bit of information was supposed to stay in her head.

 

“Jake?” Al questions. “Who’s Jake?”

 

“No one,” Alicia mumbles. “Forget I said anything.”

 

“A boyfriend?” Al guesses. Something on Alicia’s face must indicate the correctness of her assumption. “What happened to him?”

 

“He’s dead,” Alicia spits. “Like everyone else. Anymore questions?”

 

“Lots, actually,” Al says. “But I can wait.”

 

“Not up for a mid-afternoon heart-to-heart?” Alicia says wryly.

 

“We don’t like each other, remember?” Al points out. “People who don’t like each other don’t have heart-to-hearts.”

 

“I’m sure you’ve met plenty of people you didn’t like,” Alicia says. “You still harass them for their story.”

 

“It’s not harassment. It’s a trade.”

 

“A trade you’re not allowed to say no to.”

 

“My offers are always more than the fair price.”

 

Alicia’s eyes roll. “Sure.”

 

Alicia lounges across her set of seats and forces her way through a book about World War I even though this information is practically useless to her right now. What good is the history of the past world when the dead are constantly trying to eat you? Nonetheless, Alicia absorbs the information in spite of her utter disinterest in the topic – but all of Al’s books are related either to film or history or the history of film, so Alicia doesn’t have much of a choice. Alicia only puts the book down when Al throws a protein bar at her.

 

“Dinner,” Al says. It’s the first word that’s been spoken in at least the past four hours. Alicia’s making good progress on that book. The second it’s dark enough to reasonably try to sleep, Alicia stops reading and rolls over. A short while later, Alicia hears Al do the same thing. It’s even quieter now without the gentle sound of pages flipping to keep Alicia sane. She’s all but completely tuned out the sound of the pouring rain. And now, with Al asleep since she’s so fucking unbothered by the cold, Alicia’s alone.

 

Alicia’s mind wanders back to Nick. Madison. Ofelia. Jake. Travis. Her mind makes it all the way back to Matt before her eyes prick with tears. She hasn’t been able to slow down since the stadium got overrun, hasn’t had the opportunity to really think about everything and everyone she’s lost. Now, in the silence and relative safety of the SWAT van, Alicia’s mind whirs.

 

“I can’t sleep with your teeth constantly chattering,” Al says. She scares the shit out of Alicia, who quickly grits her teeth and dabs at her eyes with the sleeve of Al’s jacket.

 

“Sorry,” Alicia shoots once she’s confident that her voice won’t betray her. “Maybe you should keep some blankets in this thing.”

 

“In Texas?” Al snorts. “Normally this isn’t a problem.”

 

“Well, Mother Nature isn’t following the rules, is she?”

 

“I didn’t say she was. I just said you’re keeping me awake.”

 

“What would you like me to do about it?” Alicia hisses.

 

Al shifts around then says, “Come over here.”

 

“What?” Alicia blurts. She sits upright and squints through the darkness over at Al. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You think I’m one of those – what’d you call it? – ‘space heater people’ then get over here. If I’m a space heater, I’ve got plenty to share.”

 

“Are you fucking crazy?”

 

“No, I’m fucking tired, and I’m not going to get any sleep with your incessant teeth chattering.”

 

“So you…what? Want to huddle for warmth?”

 

“If it’ll make you be quiet, then sure.” Alicia can’t see Al’s grin, but she can hear it in her voice when she says, “And technically, it’s not huddling for warmth. It’s _cuddling_ for warmth.”

 

“You’re the literal worst,” Alicia says.

 

“That’s an overly harsh assessment,” Al dismisses. “If you aren’t gonna come over here, then I’ll come to you. I can’t take that obnoxious sound anymore.”

 

“I took your jacket,” Alicia defends. “I’m not about to –”

 

“To what? Take my body heat, too?”

 

“Shut up! Stay over there!”

 

“Alicia, don’t be ridiculous. You’re freezing.”

 

“It won’t kill me.”

 

“No, but if I have to keep listening to your teeth, then Jesus Christ, I’m going to kill myself. So slide over.”

 

Al hovers over Alicia, eyebrows raised, and Alicia stares up at her in disbelief. The last person she slept next to – that she wasn’t related to – was Jake. That’s one can of trauma she isn’t ready to open yet.

 

“The longer I have to stand here, the more pathetic you get,” Al taunts.

 

“Fine, but I’m armed, so don’t get any ideas.”

 

“You aren’t armed.”

 

“Yeah, but I can be.”

 

Alicia rolls so she faces the wall and scoots as close as she can get to it. Alicia flinches as Al lowers herself in the space behind her. Her entire body tenses as Al’s arm secures around Alicia’s waist. For the first few seconds, they’re both very still.

 

“Okay, your elbow’s in my stomach, so if you could stop doing that, I’d appreciate it,” Al says.

 

“Maybe if you weren’t all up on me, I’d have somewhere better to put my elbow.”

 

“I’m trying to help you.”

 

“I’m incredibly uncomfortable.”

 

“Yeah, well, join the club.”

 

Alicia huffs. Her heart hammers in her throat, but she can’t explain to herself why. And this is crazy but – it’s working. After a few minutes, Alicia’s shivering begins to subside. She almost relaxes but remembers the arm around her waist belongs to Al.

 

“Better?” Al mumbles.

 

“No,” Alicia grunts.

 

“Liar. You aren’t shivering.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Alicia stiffens as Al’s forehead drops against the back of her neck. Al exhales, and her grip on Alicia’s waist loosens. After a few minutes pass, her grip loosens even further, and Alicia feels the steady rise and fall of Al’s chest against her back. Alicia’s body relaxes, and she lets her eyes close.

 

Alicia wakes up disoriented, forgetting where she is and –

 

Alicia sends her elbow into Al’s stomach, hard, and exclaims, “That’s my boob!”

 

“Hey!” Al shouts. Her arm retracts, and she rolls back, forgetting the lack of space on the seats. She hits the floor of the van and yells out again as Alicia scrambles to sit up. Al groans, right hand braced on the floor beside her face. Al grits her teeth, and Alicia waits for her to get up, but she stays where she’s at.

 

“That was my boob,” Alicia snaps.

 

“I didn’t know!” Al blurts. “I was asleep! Goddamn it!”

 

“What?” Alicia says. She watches Al roll onto her back, jaw clenched, as she clutches onto her left arm.

 

“God,” Al exhales, “I think you dislocated my fucking shoulder.”

 

Alicia’s eyes widen. “No, it can’t be – okay, hang on.”

 

Alicia gets to her feet and bends over to help Al sit up then stand. Alicia guides her to the seats, makes her sit down, then starts unbuttoning her shirt.

 

“You move fast,” Al quips.

 

“Stop,” Alicia orders. “I’m trying to help.”

 

“You’re the one that elbowed me in the first place.”

 

“Your arm was across my chest!”

 

“It wasn’t even my hand?” Al says in disbelief. “You elbowed me because my _arm_ was –”

 

“It was an instinctive reaction,” Alicia cuts in. She gets Al’s good arm out of the shirt and takes care when she slips the shirt off her other arm. Alicia grimaces at the very obviously dislocated shoulder Al’s sporting, and Al peers over at it in disgust. Alicia sets Al’s shirt aside and stares bug-eyed at the injury.

 

“Well? Don’t just stare at it,” Al says.

 

“What do I do?”

 

“You don’t know how to pop a dislocated shoulder back in?”

 

“No! Why would I know that?” Alicia bursts. Al rolls her eyes but walks Alicia through the process up until she actually has to do it. Alicia braces herself, squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, then releases Al altogether. “I can’t,” Alicia breathes. “I can’t do this.”

 

“You don’t have a choice,” Al says through her teeth. “You did this to me! Fix it.”

 

“Okay, just –” Alicia hesitates, placing her hand back on Al, then performs the movement the way Al showed her, really putting her weight behind it. There’s a crack as Al’s shoulder goes back into its socket, but it’s mostly drowned out by the scream Al lets out. Alicia immediately lets go and jumps back, but Al’s screaming dies out quickly.

 

“There’s a sling in here somewhere,” Al manages to say. “Find it. And if you find my pain pills –”

 

“I got it,” Alicia says. “Just – where should I be looking?”

 

With Al’s assistance, Alicia finds the sling and gets Al’s shoulder immobilized. Alicia digs up the pain pills and hands them over before sitting on the seats across from Al. Only then does Alicia realize her entire body is shaking, and it’s not from the cold. In fact, Alicia’s feeling kind of warm now. She takes off Al’s jacket and carefully tucks it away, hyperaware of Al’s eyes on her. Alicia’s hands tremble violently, and she clenches them into fists in an attempt to stop it.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alicia finally says. She keeps her eyes anywhere but on Al. “I overreacted and now –”

 

“It’s fine,” Al interrupts. “It’s – whatever. At least until it doesn’t heal properly, then I’ll be less forgiving.”

 

“It’ll heal properly,” Alicia says weakly.

 

“It better,” Al replies. She winces when she moves, but her eyes go to the windshield. “The rain’s letting up.”

 

“You can’t drive,” Alicia blurts. “You just – I just – you can’t drive!”

 

“Obviously,” Al sneers. She shakes her head and mutters, “This is what I get for trying to help. Next time, I’ll listen.”

 

Alicia’s eyes search Al’s face. Sweat’s beading on her forehead, dampening her hair, and Alicia doesn’t know if she should attribute to the injury or –

 

Now that the storm’s ending, the temperature is rising.


	2. Chapter 2

Alicia regrets complaining about the cold. Her flannel shirt comes off shortly after Al’s jacket, leaving Alicia in a black tank top. It’s still pushing toward being unbearably warm, and in the last hour since Al’s shoulder dislocation occurred, Al’s just been lying on her back across the seats, holding onto her arm, eyes shut. She isn’t asleep. Alicia’s sure of that much. But her eyes don’t open. She barely moves. Beads of sweat roll down the side of her face.

 

Alicia isn’t afraid to speak, but she also isn’t eager to try to strike up a conversation anytime soon. She’s waiting for the pain pills to kick in and hopefully work a miracle, get Al up and ready to go – which is entirely wishful thinking. For all Alicia knows, she’s done permanent damage to Al’s shoulder. And not only does Alicia not know how to operate the van, she’s not sure Al would even give her a chance.

 

Alicia stands. She can’t take just sitting there, watching Al suffer in silence. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do, but she starts by grabbing a nearby water bottle and setting it within Al’s reach. Al doesn’t acknowledge Alicia’s presence, which is fine with Alicia for now. Alicia heads for the back doors and flings them open, expecting a refreshing breeze or something, but she’s met with humidity and the blazing sun, and a small horde of the dead crawling their way out of the muck the ground has become toward the road. Alicia makes a face and yanks the doors shut before the dead notice her. She ensures the doors are locked then twists her hair up and turns her gaze back to Al.

 

“You aren’t dying,” Alicia finally says. “I know you’re hurt, but you don’t have to act like you’re on your deathbed.”

 

“I’m just laying here, Alicia,” Al mutters. “Am I not allowed to do that?”

 

“You’re lying there looking pathetic,” Alicia retorts, “and you’re acting like you’re totally useless. Besides, you’ve dealt with worse than a dislocated shoulder if that scar on your stomach is any indication.” Alicia pauses to wait for Al’s response, but Al doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t even open her eyes. “Have the pills kicked in yet?” Alicia asks.

 

Al swallows. “No.”

 

“Well, why not?” Alicia blurts. “They’re opioids, aren’t they? Don’t those work quickly?”

 

Al cracks a humorless smile and answers, “Yeah. Except I didn’t take them.”

 

“What do you _mean_ you didn’t take them?” Alicia hisses. “I gave them to you!”

 

“And as you pointed out, they’re opioids. I’ll take them once I absolutely can’t handle the pain. Now would be a bad time to form a nasty opioid addiction, don’t you think?”

 

Alicia huffs. “Well, is there some ibuprofen around here somewhere?”

 

“Ibuprofen won’t do shit.”

 

“Then take the hydrocodone.”

 

“Not yet.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Drink some water. Maybe try sitting up. The storm’s over –”

 

“Then try to contact Strand or June on the radio,” Al grunts. “If we get their location, we can get moving.”

 

“You can’t drive,” Alicia points out.

 

“I can walk you through it.”

 

Alicia finds the walkie. “One thing at a time,” she says. “I’m serious. Drink some water.”

 

Al’s eyes open and lock on Alicia. “You gonna open it for me?”

 

“Jesus,” Alicia sighs. She twists the top off and thrusts the bottle into Al’s hand. “Drink. Maybe swallow a couple of those pills.” Alicia doesn’t wait for a snarky comeback and holds down the button on the walkie. “Victor. June. Luci. Does anybody copy?”

 

Static. Alicia tries three more times as Al sips her water and watches Alicia fail to reach anybody. Alicia resists the urge to throw the walkie and sets it down gently for later. She wipes the sweat from her face with her hands and starts pacing up and down the aisle. She can’t take another day trapped in this metal box, especially now that she’s traded shivering for sweating. Pacing isn’t going to help her cool down, but she needs to think. Think of something that’ll get them out of here.

 

“You should eat,” Al says abruptly.

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“But still.”

 

Alicia jumps as something bangs against the back of the van, and as her heart pounds, she determines it’s the sound of dead fists hitting the metal. One more problem for Alicia to solve.

 

“Fine,” Alicia agrees. “But only because I’m going to need the energy to kill those things after.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Al says. She waves Alicia over with her good arm. “Come here.”

 

Alicia stops pacing. Her eyes narrow. “Why?”

 

“If I was going to strangle you, I missed my chance,” Al quips. She struggles to get herself into a seated position. “If you want to eat, most of the food’s locked up. So come get the key.”

 

Alicia lowers herself onto the seat behind Al and tentatively reaches for the back of the chain holding all of Al’s keys. Her fingers graze against the back of Al’s neck as she picks up the clasp of the chain, and Alicia tries to ignore the way Al’s muscles tense at the contact. Of course Alicia has a hard time undoing the clasp, even though it should be a simple task. When she does get the clasp undone, she stands and carefully frees the chain from around Al’s neck.

 

“It’s the silver one,” Al says. “The silver one in the middle,” she clarifies before Alicia can point out that there are two silver keys on the chain. Alicia unlocks the compartment that holds most of the rations and tosses the first thing she grabs in Al’s direction. Al manages to catch it in her good hand, but she sets it aside as Alicia digs for something at least halfway decent. But it’s all the same kind of shit. Convenient things. Protein bars. Granola. Alicia picks one at random and locks the food back up. She dangles the chain off the end of her finger and holds it out to Al.

 

Al shakes her head. “Just hang onto it,” she says.

 

“I’ll lose it,” Alicia says flatly.

 

Al snorts. “I’m sure you’ll think of a way not to lose a necklace with very important keys on it.”

 

Alicia starts to say something back but cuts herself off before any words leave her mouth. Instead, she slips the chain around her neck, the cool metal of the keys resting just beneath her tank top against the center of her chest. Just one more thing of Al’s that she’s had the absolute privilege of wearing. Alicia makes a face at the thought but takes a seat and eats breakfast/lunch as the dead knock at the back of the van.

 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Alicia asks once she finishes.

 

“I can’t open that myself. I’m down to one working arm.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Stop being a baby.”

 

“I’m stating a fact, actually,” Al says.

 

“Use your teeth.” When Al grins, Alicia adds, “Wait, never mind. Don’t say anything. Give it to me.”

 

Alicia rips the protein bar open and hands it back to Al. She grabs her gun barrel and climbs into the front seat. She considers just flinging the back doors open but decides against it when she realizes she has no way to know what kind of numbers she’s dealing with. She pokes her head out the passenger’s side window and stares at the mini horde gathered at the back of the van. There are a few stragglers a ways out, but Alicia figures she can take out the horde first then handle the incoming dead.

 

“What are you doing?” Al questions when Alicia pops the door open.

 

“Taking care of our guests,” Alicia replies. “I’ll only be gone a few minutes. Try not to hurt yourself anymore while I’m out.”

 

Alicia hops down before Al can respond. Shutting the door behind her should be enough to draw the dead’s attention to her, but she still taps the gun barrel against the side of the van, just in case. Slowly, their dead eyes turn to Alicia, and they stagger forward, arms outstretched. She takes them out, one by one, and leaves a sizeable pile of bodies near the side of the road. By the time she’s finished with the horde, the stragglers reach the van, and Alicia swiftly disposes of them as well.

 

Alicia hauls herself back into the van after wiping the blood off the barrel with the clothes of one of the nearby bodies. She drops the barrel into the passenger’s seat and heads into the back to make sure Al’s still alive.

 

“You’re bleeding,” Al says.

 

“What? No I’m –” Alicia touches her fingers to her neck. “It’s not mine,” she says.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“What? Don’t believe me?” Alicia challenges. “You want to see for yourself? I would know if one of them got me.”

 

Al holds her hand up in dismissal. “Maybe clean yourself up then.”

 

“I should say the same to you,” Alicia replies. “You’re sweating worse than me.”

 

“It’s the pain.”

 

“Then take the pills,” Alicia orders. She checks on their water supply – which is more than enough for the two of them for the next week at least – then finds a rag and splashes some of the water on it so she can wipe her bloodied neck down.

 

“I’m not taking them.”

 

Alicia turns to face Al. “Did I miss any spots?”

 

Al nods. She motions for Alicia to hand her the rag and gets to her feet. Alicia doesn’t like standing this close to Al, doesn’t like the slight height advantage the other woman has on her. Wordlessly, Alicia passes the damp rag to Al and turns her head to the side when Al reaches over to swipe away the smear of blood.

 

“You’ve got some dripping down your chest, but I’m not going to get that for you,” Al says quietly. “If I remember correctly, I earned myself a dislocated shoulder the last time I accidentally went near your chest.”

 

Al hands the rag back, and Alicia snatches it out of her hand, glaring, but she looks down and cleans up the last bit herself. She throws the rag aside and mutters, “I’m sorry about that, okay? I didn’t mean to –”

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “It’s cool. And I’m sorry for…groping you in my sleep? Except I wasn’t really groping you because it wasn’t my hand –”

 

“I get it,” Alicia says loudly. “It was an instinctive reaction.”

 

“I know,” Al says simply. “And I didn’t touch you on purpose.”

 

“I know,” Alicia says. “Except it was your idea to huddle for warmth, so it was kind of your fault too.”

 

“I was trying to _help_ you. And it worked until you elbowed me hard enough to bruise.”

 

“I did not! I…” Alicia trails off. Al lifts her shirt to reveal a purple splotch on her stomach, almost directly below the older scar. Alicia can’t help but stare this time – and she can’t help but think Al must be doing more than just pushups to keep up that physique.

 

“You were saying?” Al says.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alicia mumbles. “I wasn’t expecting there to be someone, well, _there_. I haven’t slept with someone –”

 

“Did something happen that I don’t remember?” Al cuts in, grinning maliciously. “Because I don’t think that’s something I’d forget.”

 

“I haven’t slept _next_ to someone,” Alicia says through gritted teeth, “in a while.” Alicia yanks Al’s shirt free of her grasp so it falls down and covers the bruise – and that scar, which looks even nastier up close – and so Alicia can stop staring. “You’re gross,” Alicia adds as an afterthought. “I – I wouldn’t sleep with you. Come on.”

 

“Why not?” Al asks. Alicia’s jaw falls open momentarily as she ponders whether that’s a serious question or a joke question. Al raises her eyebrows and waits while Alicia stutters. Her brain stops functioning at the most inconvenient time. There’s no more room for a snappy comeback now. Alicia feels the heat rising from her neck to her cheeks.

 

“Why not?” Alicia manages to say.

 

“Yeah. Why not? What is it exactly? My personality? My face? The fact that both of us are in need of a long shower? You got a long-lost boyfriend you’re searching for? Is it the woman thing, because desperate times –”

 

“Shut up!” Alicia blurts. “Dear God, stop talking.” Al laughs and claps Alicia on the shoulder. Alicia quickly shrugs Al’s hand off and warns, “I’ve already dislocated your shoulder. I’m not afraid to break your hand, too.”

 

“It’s a joke, Clark. Calm down,” Al replies. “You are literally the last person on my list of people I’d sleep with after the world ended.”

 

Alicia can’t hide the indignant look that crosses her face. “Literally the last? Even after John? After _June_?”

 

“Literally the last,” Al repeats.

 

“Wow,” Alicia says. “That’s really mean.”

 

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want to sleep with me first.”

 

“Well, I don’t want to sleep with you, but I’d choose you over June.”

 

Al snorts. “Obviously. June’s too old for you.”

 

“And you aren’t?”

 

“Excuse me, I only just turned thirty. You can fuck off.”

 

Alicia fights the smile that threatens to cross her face at the dopey grin Al flashes before it’s replaced with a wince.

 

“Sit down,” Alicia instructs. She takes ahold of Al’s good arm as Al lowers herself back to the seat. Alicia grabs the bottle of hydrocodone and drops it into Al’s lap.

 

“I can’t take those,” Al insists. She shoves the bottle into Alicia’s chest, and Alicia has no choice but to grab it before it falls.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Then why do you have them?”

 

Al gives her the _really?_ sort of look. “For other people. Not for me.”

 

“You won’t get addicted to them,” Alicia assures her. “I can promise you that.”

 

“How can you promise that?”

 

“I won’t let you,” Alicia says. “I’ll throw the remaining pills out of the van, and I can easily take you in a fight now that you’ve only got one working arm.”

 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that to convince me,” Al says. “Besides, if you’re so hellbent on preventing me from being addicted to opioids, you really should just take the bottle away.”

 

Alicia sighs but doesn’t push her. She sets the bottle in an easily accessible location for Al in case she changes her mind and drops down onto the seats across from her. A few moments pass in silence, then –

 

“So June before me?” Alicia questions. “Seriously?”

 

Al laughs. “I’m not giving you my list.”

 

“You actually have a list?”

 

“A mental, hypothetical one, yes. You don’t?”

 

“No,” Alicia says. “I’m not gross.”

 

“It’s a totally normal thing.”

 

“To rank your friends in order of who you’d sleep with?”

 

“Who said they’re my friends?” Al says softly. “And if you’re the last person on the list, then are you saying we’re friends?”

 

“We aren’t friends,” Alicia splutters. “And whatever. Forget I asked.” Alicia lies back, and the keys on the chain fall farther up her neck. She almost forgot she had those. “Can you take your keys back?” Alicia asks.

 

“No. Keep them.”

 

“Why?”

 

“So you don’t have to come get them off me every time you need to open something.”

 

“You’re giving me full access to your camera and tapes?”

 

Al pauses. “I guess I am. I’m not too worried.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Al smiles. “I stole your Glock while you were sleeping.”

 

“What?” Alicia bolts up and starts searching for the gun she forgot she had with her. She always uses the gun barrel on the dead, and the living have been absent, so the gun hasn’t been on her mind recently. “Where is it?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Al says. “There’s no need for it right now.”

 

“You’re evil.”

 

“Hey, you dislocated my shoulder this morning, man,” Al complains. “You don’t get to hurl insults at me, too. You already severely hurt my ego by saying you’d never sleep with me.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “You’ll get over it, I’m sure. And I didn’t say _never_. I just said I wouldn’t.”

 

“Same shit.”

 

“No,” Alicia argues. “I didn’t say never.”

 

“So under some special set of circumstances –”

 

“Oh my God, let it go,” Alicia says, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

 

“Humor me,” Al requests. “My shoulder hurts. Distract me.”

 

Alicia refuses to look over at Al. She knows Al’s wearing some stupid-ass suggestive look on her face, and she’s not going to fall for it. “Distract you how?” Alicia grumbles. “You know what would distract you? Pain pills.”

 

Al ignores her. “I don’t know. Be interesting.”

 

“How?”

 

“Tell me something.”

 

Alicia scoffs. “Like what?”

 

“Who’s Jake?”

 

Alicia’s heart drops into her stomach. “What?”

 

“Jake. I figured he was your boyfriend. You said he’s dead. That doesn’t tell me a lot.”

 

“He was –” Alicia swallows. “He lived on this ranch with his dad and brother. It was this whole long thing, and it ended when the ranch was overrun. My mom, Nick, and I escaped, but even that doesn’t really matter now that they’re both dead, too.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Now you tell me some sob story of yours.”

 

Al chuckles. “What kind of sob story are you looking for? A total shit ending or a bittersweet one? My personal favorites are the horribly ironic ones.”

 

“No happy endings?”

 

“You asked for a sob story, not an uplifting one.”

 

“Do you have any uplifting ones?”

 

“Sure. Lots,” Al says. “But none that are from after the dead started walking. Not that I can recall right now. Most of those are ongoing or…”

 

“Bad?”

 

“Bad,” Al confirms.

 

“Never mind,” Alicia mutters. She inhales deeply then asks, “So if you had to pick between sleeping with John or Morgan –”

 

“We aren’t playing that game,” Al says. After a moment, they both bust out laughing.

 

“Why not?” Alicia challenges.

 

“Because it’s messed up.”

 

“Oh, now it’s messed up?”

 

Al cracks a smile. “I’ll choose if you choose first.”

 

“No!”

 

“Then there you go.”

 

Silence settles between them, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Alicia stretches out and impatiently wipes away the beads of sweat forming on her face. She spares a glance over at Al, surprised to see Al unabashedly staring at her.

 

“You’re staring,” Alicia huffs.

 

“Yeah,” Al says. “So?”

 

Alicia turns her head and stares back. “Why?”

 

“What else am I going to do?” Al questions. “I have one arm.”

 

“Take a nap,” Alicia suggests. “Try to call June or Victor on the radio.”

 

Al runs her hand through her sweat dampened hair, slicking it back from her forehead. “I bet they’re out of range,” Al says.

 

“We should try anyway.”

 

“Every two hours,” Al offers. “Watch the time.”

 

With that settled, Alicia attempts to get comfortable on the seats. She lies on her back and stays still, hoping it’ll help her cool off. And to think just last night she was freezing her ass off.  Now she wants to strip naked, but she won’t do that. Not with Al here, at least.

 

“You handle extreme temperatures really well,” Alicia says.

 

Al laughs. “Okay? Thanks?”

 

“I’m just saying,” Alicia grumbles. “I’m ready to strip down.”

 

Al’s eyebrows raise. “You’re straightforward.”

 

“Not because – Al! Because it’s _hot_. That’s why.”

 

“Right,” Al says, throwing Alicia a wink. “I’m injured anyway, so I guess it’s for the best.” Al grins. “For now.”

 

“Knock it off.”

 

Al shrugs with her good shoulder then lies across the seats on her back, wincing until she settles. “Gotta have fun somehow. And now that you’ve hurt me, I can get away with more than I could’ve gotten away with yesterday.”

 

“Oh, is that why you’re suddenly being like this?”

 

Al pushes her hand into her hair and holds it there. “And I like you a little bit more than I did yesterday.”

 

“Really?” Alicia says. She lifts her head to look at Al. “Wait, are you serious?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why?” Alicia asks. “I mean – I made you dislocate your shoulder for something that wasn’t even really your fault.”

 

“You didn’t do it on purpose.”

 

“I still feel bad,” Alicia says. “So if you need help with something –”

 

“I can take care of myself, Clark,” Al says smoothly. “Even with only one arm.”

 

“Fine,” Alicia says. “How are you putting up with the sweat?”

 

“It doesn’t bother me.”

 

“Nothing does, apparently.”

 

“It’s an acquired skill.”

 

“But it’s _so hot_ in here.”

 

“And yesterday it was _so cold_ ,” Al teases. “I was able to offer you my body heat yesterday, but I don’t think I have anything to offer you today.”

 

“Good.”

 

Al laughs, but it morphs into a groan when she tweaks her shoulder. Alicia jumps to her feet and crosses the aisle, but Al holds her hand out to stop her, eyes squeezed shut. Al’s hand presses against Alicia’s stomach when Alicia refuses to obey.

 

“Don’t,” Al says. “There’s nothing you can do.”

 

Alicia swats Al’s hand away from her stomach. Alicia hovers over Al, staring down at her until the pain seems to subside and Al relaxes. Alicia touches her fingertips to Al’s good shoulder, but Al knocks her hand away.

 

“Al –”

 

“You can stop standing over me,” Al says. “I’m good.”

 

“You’re in pain.”

 

“Obviously. But I’m fine.”

 

Alicia presses her lips together. “Move over,” she commands.

 

“What?”

 

“Slide,” Alicia says.

 

“Why?”

 

“Jesus, just do it!”

 

Al slides over until her bad arm’s nearly touching the side of the van. Alicia tentatively lowers herself into the limited space allowed on the seat alongside Al. Al lifts her good arm, and Alicia takes that as an invitation. Alicia rests her head on Al’s chest and hooks her arm across Al’s stomach, knotting her fingers in the material of Al’s tank top. Alicia flings one leg across both of Al’s, not really having another choice if she wants to stay on the seat. Alicia waits for Al’s inevitable dumbass comment.

 

But Al doesn’t make a dumbass comment. She winces, shifting beneath Alicia. “Don’t push down on my stomach,” she says. “It’s bruised from your elbow, remember?”

 

“Right. Sorry,” Alicia whispers. She scoots her arm farther up, carefully, not daring to get too close to Al’s chest. With her luck, Al will choose to take revenge and elbow her off the seats. But Al’s arm stays secured around Alicia, her hand holding onto Alicia’s arm. Alicia listens to the strong beat of Al’s heart beneath her ear, feels the steady rise and fall of Al’s chest with each breath she takes.

 

“Why are you here?” Al asks.

 

“Because I hurt you.”

 

“It’s hot as hell, and we’re both sweaty and disgusting –”

 

“Yeah, so it cancels out,” Alicia says. They both chuckle, and Alicia listens as Al inhales deeply.

 

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Al murmurs.

 

“Whatever,” Alicia dismisses. She chews on her lower lip. “Don’t let me hurt you, okay?”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“And if you want to elbow me onto the floor, I understand.”

 

Al grins even though Alicia can’t see it. “I won’t do that,” Al promises. “Only because I won’t be able to pop your shoulder back in when you dislocate yours from the fall.”

 

“I wouldn’t dislocate my shoulder,” Alicia says. “I’d fall properly.”

 

“Ouch,” Al says. “Just call me out like that.”

 

Alicia smiles and lets her eyes close. She drifts off, but when she opens her eyes, the van is dark. She almost bolts upright but realizes she’s very much tangled with Al, and any sudden movements would probably hurt her. So Alicia stays still and tries to determine if Al’s asleep by her breathing. She’s breathing much too evenly for someone who’s awake. Al’s arm is loosely draped around Alicia, and Alicia’s hand is curled into a loose fist, resting against Al’s chest beside Alicia’s face. Alicia quickly lifts her hand, just in case Al wakes up at this exact moment and accuses Alicia of groping her. Of course, Al doesn’t wake up, but Alicia figures out why _she_ woke up in the first place.

 

A fist bangs against the back of the van. Alicia carefully lifts her head then manages to duck under Al’s arm and get to her feet without disturbing Al. Alicia lets her eyes adjust to the darkness then locates the gun barrel. She holds it at her side and reaches for the back door.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Al says.

 

“Jesus Christ!” Alicia yells, clutching at her chest. She whips around, the gun barrel clattering to the floor, and attempts to breathe normally. Al raises her eyebrows as Alicia’s heart hammers in her throat, and she nearly drops to her hands and knees. “I think I’m having a heart attack,” Alicia says.

 

“Come on. I didn’t scare you that badly. You didn’t answer my question, though.”

 

“I’m taking care of –” The fist hits the van again, “– that,” Alicia explains.

 

“It’s dark,” Al points out. “Don’t you dare open that door.”

 

“Or what? You’re gonna stop me?” Alicia sneers. “All I have to do is touch your shoulder –”

 

“Please don’t be stupid right now,” Al says. She manages to sit up, swinging her legs off the seats and planting her boots on the floor. She waves Alicia over. “Come on. Sit down.”

 

“It’s a quick kill,” Alicia argues.

 

“It’s a stupid risk to take.”

 

“I’m not going to be able to sleep.”

 

“Then you don’t sleep,” Al says. “It’s better than getting yourself bitten.”

 

Alicia picks the gun barrel up and moves it out of the way before rejoining Al. Alicia leans back against the van and slumps down in her seat, legs spread, hands clasped between her legs. Al sits rather stiffly, but Alicia attributes that to the discomfort her shoulder must be causing her.

 

“You okay?” Alicia asks.

 

“Fine.”

 

Alicia hesitates. “You didn’t sleep funny on your shoulder or something, did you?”

 

“No.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“Cut the shit,” Al says abruptly. “Say what you want to say.”

 

“I want to kill that thing,” Alicia says.

 

“Why?”

 

“So it stops banging on the van.”

 

“No, why do you really want to kill it?” Al presses.

 

“I just told you.”

 

“You’re a liar. Or partly a liar.”

 

“It’s dangerous,” Alicia says.

 

“It’s not hurting the van by hitting it, I promise,” Al quips.

 

“Funny,” Alicia scoffs. “Its existence hurts people.”

 

“And you can end its existence in the morning. I bet you it’ll still be there.”

 

“I hate when you’re level-headed.”

 

“It happens once in a while,” Al says. She reaches over and pats Alicia’s knee. “Morning can’t be too far off anyway. We’ll kill that thing, try to contact our friends, and I’ll teach you how to drive this thing.”

 

Alicia catches Al’s hand before she can pull it away from Alicia’s knee. Al’s eyebrows raise, but Alicia holds on as she asks, “How’d you get that scar?”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m sorry, I just – it’s been bothering me since I first saw it. How did you get it?”

 

“Do you need to hold my hand while I answer the question?”

 

Alicia releases Al’s hand quickly, thankful that the darkness helps cover up the fact that her face flushes. “Just tell me,” Alicia mutters.

 

“I mean, if you wanted to hold my hand –”

 

“The scar,” Alicia interrupts.

 

“Right. You want to know how I got it.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Al smirks. “A knife. A really big knife.”

 

“I could’ve guessed –”

 

“You asked how, not why.”

 

“You’re annoying.”

 

“And you aren’t?” Al snorts. “The _why_ is a long story.”

 

“Well, we’ve got time.” Alicia pauses. “Unless you don’t want to tell me the _why_.”

 

Al turns her head to look over at Alicia, and only then does Alicia realize just how close they are. In fact, Alicia’s knee rests against Al’s, and Alicia doesn’t even notice the contact until Al’s face is _right there_. Alicia swallows hard but refuses to be the one to back off. Alicia wonders if Al’s noticing their proximity, if that’s why Al still hasn’t said anything.

 

Then Al inhales sharply and mutters, “It’s just a long, convoluted story, and you know I lived in the end.”

 

“Maybe I care about more than just the end.”

 

“Now you sound like me.”

 

Alicia gives a small shrug. “If you don’t want to tell me, you can just say so.”

 

Al grins, eyebrows quirking upward. “I’ll tell you. Just not now. Some other time.”

 

Alicia flinches as the dead lands a particularly loud blow on the van. Her eyes flick over to the gun barrel. Alicia sits up straighter, pulls her legs closer together so her knee isn’t touching Al’s leg anymore. She rubs at her temples as the dead hits the van again. It’d be easier to handle if it was a steady knocking, but it occurs irregularly.

 

“You’re frustrating,” Alicia finally says.

 

“Why?” Al questions softly.

 

“You won’t let me kill the dead, but you won’t tell me that damn story to keep my mind off of –” The dead hits the van again, “ _that_.”

 

“You’re looking for a distraction.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Then ask me something. Something _not_ related to the scar on my stomach.”

 

Alicia racks her brain. “What do you miss?”

 

“Way to be vague, Clark.”

 

“Just answer the question!”

 

Al balks at Alicia’s sudden ferocity but recovers quickly. Al exhales heavily and adjusts the way the strap of the sling lies against her good shoulder. “Are you looking for a profound answer or will _regular showers_ suffice as an answer?” Al says. When Alicia looks over, Al flashes her a crooked grin.

 

“I miss sleeping in the same bed every night,” Alicia says.

 

Al nods. “I miss sex,” she says bluntly.

 

Alicia laughs and slaps Al on her uninjured arm. “I’m surprised you didn’t lead with that,” Alicia says. “And besides, what’s stopping you?”

 

“Assholes.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

Al shakes her head. “Everyone left in this fucking hellhole is an asshole.”

 

“Oh. Yeah,” Alicia agrees. “Well, almost everyone. I mean, John and June found each other.”

 

“I’m not looking for an intense post-apocalyptic romance,” Al laughs.

 

“Just sex?”

 

“Just sex,” Al confirms. “It’s harder to find than you’d think.”

 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “And I’m over here missing, like, fresh-baked cookies.”

 

“I miss those, too.”

 

Alicia sighs. “This was a bad idea.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because now I miss my mom. And Nick. And Jake.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Alicia waves it off. “I did it to myself.” She smiles wryly. “I wish sex could be higher on my list of things to miss, but…”

 

“There are people I miss, too,” Al says. “I know it must feel like you’re alone –”

 

“We don’t have to do this,” Alicia interrupts.

 

“Do what?” Al says dumbly.

 

“Tell each other about the people that we loved who died and give all the dirty details and then, like, _cry_.”

 

Al cracks a weary smile. “Gross.”

 

Alicia matches the smile then says, “How’s your shoulder?”

 

“Same as it’s been.”

 

Alicia gnaws on her lower lip. “You won’t take the hydrocodone because you were addicted to it, weren’t you?”

 

“What? No!”

 

“Please,” Alicia says quietly. “My brother was an addict. No one’s _that_ worried about getting addicted to opioids.”

 

“You know, I think I’d rather tell you about that scar –”

 

“Cut the shit,” Alicia says. “Just – can we just be honest?”

 

Al presses her lips together. “Fine. Honest.”

 

“So you were addicted to pain pills. Or heroin?”

 

“No.”

 

“We said –”

 

“Someone I knew was,” Al clarifies. “She, um, when the dead rose, she decided this wasn’t a world worth sticking around for.”

 

Alicia hesitates. She gently places her hand on Al’s knee and only feels confident about it after Al’s hand covers her own. Alicia can’t think of anything to say to that. She’d been so sure it was Al.

 

“So…you’re worried you’re going to get addicted, too?”

 

“No,” Al says softly. “I’m more afraid I’ll find no reason to stick around after I’ve taken those pills.”

 

“But they’re here,” Alicia points out.

 

“They’re here.”

 

“Should I throw them out?” Alicia asks.

 

Al smiles. “No. But nice try.”

 

“I didn’t ask so I could kill the dead.”

 

“I know.”

 

They fall silent for a moment. Al’s fingers slot between Alicia’s against her knee, and Alicia smirks.

 

“If you wanted to hold my hand –”

 

Al’s hand releases Alicia’s, hooks around the back of Alicia’s neck, and brings their faces within inches. If Alicia angled her head just slightly forward, her lips would touch Al’s. But Al waits.

 

“Stop me,” she murmurs.

 

Alicia knots her hand in the front of Al’s tank top and closes what little distance between them remains. She’s afraid to move her hand, afraid to hurt Al again, afraid to do anything more than hold on and kiss back. Her brain desperately tries to sort out what this means, why it’s happening – but then Alicia shuts it off. She lets go of Al’s tank top and moves her hand up to cup Al’s jaw. She matches Al’s pace, slow but needy, afraid to push too far, afraid to forget and accidentally grab onto her shoulder.

 

Alicia shifts back, keeping her eyes closed. “I’m going to hurt you,” she breathes.

 

“Let me worry about that,” Al replies.

 

Alicia braces her hand against Al’s neck, close to her shoulder but not quite touching it, but Al still winces. “No. You’re in pain.”

 

“Then fix it.”

 

“I can’t fix your shoulder.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.”

 

Alicia sighs. She pushes her hand into Al’s hair, revels in the feeling of Al’s short locks running between her fingers. Al’s eyes close, jaw clenches and unclenches.

 

“Do I get a raincheck?” Al finally asks.

 

Alicia laughs. “We’ll see.”

 

Alicia starts to lean back in, but a crackling sound startles both Alicia and Al.

 

“Hello?” June’s voice says through the walkie. “Al? John? Does anyone copy?”

 

Alicia rushes to grab the walkie and slaps it into Al’s hand. “June,” Al responds. “It’s Al. I copy.”

 

“Al!” June exclaims. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Al says. Her eyes flick over to Alicia. “Just, uh, minor damage. I’m in the van with Alicia.”

 

Alicia tunes out the rest of Al’s conversation with June. She reaches back and unclasps Al’s chain of keys, removing it from her neck. She waits for Al to finish up on the walkie before holding the chain out.

 

“You need those,” Al says, getting to her feet. She groans and stretches to the best of her ability without worsening her pain. “You’re going to learn how to drive, remember?”

 

Alicia’s eyes widen. “I’ve had the keys to the van _this entire time_?”

 

Al grins. “Yeah. You didn’t know?”

 

“You didn’t tell me!”

 

Al laughs. “Get up front, Clark. We’re going after June.”

 

Alicia climbs into the driver’s seat and tries not to think about how at the beginning, she wanted nothing more than to be away from Al. But now, she doesn’t really want to go after the others. Al joins her up front after a moment then holds something out. Alicia looks over at the Glock – her Glock – balancing on Al’s palm.

 

“Here,” Al says. “Before I forget.”

 

Alicia fights off a smile. “Keep it,” she says. “For now.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“Okay, so what do I do?” Alicia asks.

 

“First, you put your seatbelt on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that wraps up this little side project! Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I'll respond as quickly as I can!


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